


i would give you my body (but i'm not sure that you want me)

by mikeymomoo



Series: what if i came in close? (trans george au) [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Everyone is Queer, Gender Dysphoria, Getting Together, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, This is so soft, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, alex encourages georges sexuality realisation, and george asks will out, i rly dont know how i got 2.2k out of this, i'm the imallexx of stretching out a tiny subject, thats all this it, trans george
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 06:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17544449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeymomoo/pseuds/mikeymomoo
Summary: They sit in silence until George finishes his toastie, other than Alex’s occasional outcry when he scores or concedes a goal or makes what he deems to be a particularly impressive pass. Now that George has started thinking about his tangled mess of a sexuality it just won’t leave his head; the thoughts grow and convulse until he can’t keep them in anymore.“Reckon I’m gay.”-or, george comes to terms with being gay and wants to fuck one of his best mates-title from there's a honey by pale wavestitle from there's a honey by pale waves





	i would give you my body (but i'm not sure that you want me)

**Author's Note:**

> hello i just want 2 say that i am actually a trans guy lmao this isn't like fetishizing trans guys i just literally wanted someone 2 write a good trans george fic cos,,,hes tiny and it makes sense cool
> 
> this is semi proof read soz
> 
> enjoi x

“Right then guys, that’s pretty much it for this one and I’ll see you next time.” 

George switches off his microphone and saves the audio before closing his laptop. He’ll edit the video tomorrow; for now, he’s sick of SEUM footage and almost wants to go straight to bed — it’s only eleven but it feels like four in the morning, only he hasn’t eaten since lunch (breakfast?) and Alex will be awake and making noise for hours yet. It's more than enough of an excuse to stay up awhile longer.

He pushes himself backwards on his office chair and stands up, leaning against his desk for a second when he gets a head rush. There was no one else in the video today, so he didn’t record any video footage to avoid having to wear his mask, and it was such a relief to record without it. His friends don’t really understand why he wears it in his videos:  they tend to assume it’s for the privacy of people not knowing what he looks like, which it isn’t — George couldn’t care less about that — but he supposes they never will understand, not fully. 

He imagines that it’s hard to empathise with gender dysphoria if you’re not transgender, and he knows so few trans people that explaining the reasons behind the mask doesn’t seem worth it. He just can’t stand looking at his face for as long as he would have to in order to edit a facecam video without the mask — his small nose, his soft jawline, the fact that no matter how long he’s been on testosterone, facial hair just _ won’t grow _ . At least his voice dropped quickly, George reasons.

Alex is sitting on the sofa in the living room when George walks through to get to the kitchen, a vague thought of a cheese toastie on his mind. He’s playing Fifa and seems to be losing miserably to the AI, as usual.

“Learn to play the fuckin’ game, mate.” 

Alex throws an empty coke can at him without looking, which George picks up, making a face. “Not like you’re any better.”

“Yeah, you keep believing that.”

George continues past him to the kitchen, puts the can in the recycling, and sets about making a cheese and pickle toastie. His brain wanders, as he slides the bread under the grill and starts grating cheese, to the man a few floors up. He and Will have been mates for a while now, but George has only recently taken notice of — or, more truthfully, stopped desperately ignoring — the swelling ache in his chest when he’s around the other man, the rapid beating of his heart when he thinks about him, the redirection of his blood flow when he thinks about him  _ too  _ much, because everything about Will is just that. Too much.

George finishes cooking his toastie and sits down in the armchair watch Alex on Fifa while he eats. “Sorry mate,” he says, mouth half full, “I should’ve asked if you wanted one.”

“S’alright,” Alex replies and doesn’t continue until a minute later, distracted by the game, “Not hungry anyway. I ate at Marriott’s.”

They sit in silence until George finishes his toastie, other than Alex’s occasional outcry when he scores or concedes a goal or makes what he deems to be a particularly impressive pass. Now that George has started thinking about his tangled mess of a sexuality it just won’t leave his head; the thoughts grow and convulse until he can’t keep them in anymore. 

“Reckon I’m gay.”

George didn’t mean for the words to blurt out the way they did: in a perfect world, he would think before he speaks and say such a thing in a more roundabout way than that, but they do say honesty is the best policy.  _ Alex will understand _ , he thinks retrospectively.  _ He’s not going to care. _

Alex throws a glance at him, eyebrows raised, then looks back at the game. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asks carefully, his words slow as if not to scare George off.

“I… I guess so? I said it, so I must, I think.” Given the confirmation, Alex pauses the match and places the controller down next to him on the sofa. He looks back at George who appears smaller than usual, crowding himself into the armchair with his elbows tucked between his torse and the arms of the chair. “Maybe not gay.”

Alex hums, holding eye contact with George until the other man looks down at his lap. “It’s not that simple for everyone, you know. Not as easy as gay or straight or bi.”

George shakes his head. “No, I think it is actually, though,” He pauses, running over the past three years in his head as quickly as he can. “Don’t think I’ve been, like, properly into a woman since I started my transition. I can’t remember looking at a girl in the last few years and thinking, ‘Yeah, I’d fuck her’. Like, girls are pretty, but they’re not… Hot.”

“Sounds like you might be then, mate,” Alex says, nodding. “What’s brought this on?”

George thinks for a moment before he replies, picking through his options here. “You literally can’t say anything about this to anyone else. Not until I’m ready.”

“Course not.”

“Will.”

Alex blinks. “Will?” George nods, and it dawns on Alex what he means. “Will.  _ Will _ !”

“Not a fucking word, Alex.” Alex shakes his head. “He’s just… Fit.” Alex nods again, a grin spreading. George blushes, “Shut up.”

“Didn’t say a thing.” Alex pumps his eyebrows.

Picking up his plate from his lap, George stands and walks over to the kitchen to clean up his mess. He’s back in the living room in a minute, eager to get what he needs out of this conversation — an answer on what to  _ do  _ about this whole… feelings situation.

“I wanna ask him out.” Alex has started Fifa back up again, feeling assured that George isn’t about to have a gay breakdown. 

“Do it, then. Sick of him complaining about being single.” When George doesn’t reply immediately, Alex thinks maybe he is about to have a gay breakdown after all, or that he’s made a grave mistake somewhere in those few words. “I mean, not that’d he’d say yes just for the sake of not being single anymore. He’s not that much of a knobhead. I was just having a joke, mate, honestly-”

“I’m a top,” George interrupts, cutting off Alex’s babbling before it gets unbearable. “And I’m terrified that he won’t want to get topped by a- a trans guy.” Alex’s silence, George decided, is worse than when he won’t shut up. 

Thankfully, it only stretches for a minute before Alex pauses Fifa again. His brain clearly can’t process that much at once. 

“He’s not a transphobe, George. I reckon you’d know by now if he was.”

George shakes his head, “I’m not saying he is. Just… there are a lot of people who don’t want to date trans people, or fuck us, and I just- I just don’t want to get rejected ‘cause of that. It’s a shitty reason.”

“George.” Alex’s tone is overwhelmingly serious, and George’s eyes flick up to meet Alex’s without him meaning them to. “Will isn’t transphobic.” He lets his words sink in before he replies, watching as George’s shoulders visibly lower, “If he says he’s not attracted to you — which I doubt he will — it won’t be for that reason.”

George lets his eyes close and his head fall back against the armchair. “I guess not.”

“No, mate,” Alex decides, “You know not. Believe me.” 

“Maybe I should just… Do it, then,” George says, nodding. He sighs, lengthily, drawn out. “Jesus, it’s been years since I asked anyone out, bet I’ve lost my touch.”

Alex laughs breathily. “Don’t overthink it. Just go upstairs and tell him you’re into him. Easy peasy. There’s no way I believe the big George Memeulous is scared by little WillNE.”

“Oh, fuck off, mate.” George stands up, rolling his eyes. “I refuse to get baited into asking one of my best mates out,” But he’s already walking towards the door.

“Hey, tell you what, I’ll text Marriott to come over. If he says yes, we can drink to celebrate, and if he says no, we can drink to forget.” George smirks at the excuse to get James at their flat  _ again _ .

“Sure.”

He slips on a pair of trainers before he leaves the flat, pretending not to hear Alex shouting “Good luck” at him from behind and ignoring the following “you can fuck me if he won’t let you” even harder. He texts Will while he’s in the lift, stabbing the button for Will’s floor without taking his eyes off the phone; it’s muscle memory at this point.

_ George: omw up to urs mate, there in a min _

_ George: hope thats chill _

His phone pings as he steps out of the lift and walks to Will’s door.

_ WillyNE: Yeah mate, anytime. _

George smirks at his phone and knocks on the door, which opens almost immediately to reveal Will grinning back at him. Will turns around immediately, leaving George to invite himself in and close the door behind him.

“D’you need a drink or anything, George, mate?” Will asks, looking at the short man over his shoulder. 

George starts nodding his head before thinking better of it. This isn’t something he wants to do shitfaced. “No, I’m alright. Cheers, Will.”

Will had picked up a bottle of Captain Morgan’s spiced with enough speed as he asked the question that George hadn’t even noticed until now as Will puts the bottle back on the cabinet he had taken it from the top of. “Fair enough. I won’t get pissed without you, then.”

George settles into the left side of the sofa, his torso facing the centre so that the side view of his chest won’t be visible when Will joins him at the other end. It’s a habit George thinks will be hard to shake even when he gets top surgery.

“What’s up then, mate?”

George shakes his head and shrugs. “Not a lot.”

There’s an extended moment of silence where he’s immediately let the conversation end by not reciprocating the question before George continues. “No, that’s a lie,” George shakes his head again, looking down at the rug. It’s an ugly shade of beige, he decides, his brain looking to distract him from what he’s about to do. Perhaps if he thinks about what he’s saying little enough, it will just slip out like it did with Alex earlier, George hopes.

Will frowns, leaning into George’s space a little, face covered in concern. “Why, what’s going on?”

George swallows thickly, sure that Will must be hearing his heart pumping away like a drum. “It’s kind of hard to explain, actually.” 

“Is it… A bad thing? ‘Cause, you can tell me. If it is.” Will poses tentatively.

“No! God, no. Definitely not. Or, well. I hope it isn’t.”

Will sighs in relief. “You know, I’ve got something kinda like that on my mind, too.”

George looks up, utterly grateful for something else to talk about. He meets Will’s eyes, feeling them burning into his skull as Will waits for them to make eye contact. “Yeah? What’s that, then? You go first.”

“Nah, mate, I don’t wanna take away from your thing.” Will blinks at him, waiting for a reply that doesn’t come. “I mean. Okay, then.” He sucks in a breath through his nose and releases it through his mouth, wishing that George had accepted that drink so he’d have an excuse for one before he says this. “D’you want to go on a date with me?”

“What?” George frowns, standing up and shaking his head, turning away. “No. No, you can’t do that.”

Will’s eyes widen, shaking his head in reciprocity. “I’m so sorry mate, I totally- I must have misread everything, I thought- I thought you were into me, and I just, you’re  _ really  _ fit, and-” Will falls silent, his face crestfallen. “I’m so sorry. I thought you liked me, too.”

“No, ‘cause—” George turns back to Will, looking up as he stands to face him properly. “Ugh.” Will’s facial expression flicks from upset to almost angry. “No! Not ‘Ugh’ like, ‘Ew, that’s disgusting,’ like, ‘God, I can’t believe this is happening like this.’” The taller man squints, looking down at George with confusion. “I mean- do  _ you  _ wanna go out with  _ me _ ?”

Will blinks. George blinks back.

“What?”

George smiles sheepishly. “I mean. Yeah, I want to go out with you.”

“Yeah, me too.” Will grins, wolfish and happy, looking all too pleased with himself. “Can’t believe I’ve pulled George Memeulous.” 

“Wish people would stop calling me that to my face,” George mutters. His hands land on Will’s waist without him really meaning them to. 

“And what would you rather I called you?” Will questions, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I’d rather,” George replies, his smile widening when Will touches his jaw, “You shut up altogether.” 

George ignores the fact that he has to stand on his tiptoes to bring their mouths together and hopes Will doesn’t notice, but when their lips touch it consumes his attention too much for it to be a concern anymore. Will’s other hand joins his left on George’s face, keeping him close. When they pull apart, they remain joined at the forehead, and Will slides his hands down to George’s sides to help him stay up on his toes. George supposes that if it keeps Will’s hands on him, it doesn’t matter that he’s the shorter of the two.

“Hope you know you’re never topping me. Ever.”

Will smirks against George’s mouth. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

George supposes that maybe Alex and Marriott can drink by themselves, just for tonight.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thx 4 reading sorry 4 this mess pls comment if u enjoyed i'm sure i'll b back with a sequel soon xx


End file.
